Do You Know What Time It Is?
by nom-de-plume13
Summary: Response to the SmartGroups Yankee Plot Bunny Swap Challenge. To say anything more would give the game away. Chapter 3 up.
1. Problems

Usual disclaimers apply: I don't own 'Hogan's Heroes' and am only borrowing them for fun, not profit.

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**Chapter One**

The little old lady tottered slowly down the _Wilhelmstrasse_, the wide main street in the German town of Hammelburg. From the top of her black pillbox hat to the soles of her heavy walking shoes, she looked like any of the dozens of other grandmotherly women who were out for a day's shopping. Clutching a string bag in one hand and with her other holding her knit shawl around her stooped shoulders, she went into the green grocer's shop.

Maximillian Dietz, the proprietor, finished bagging a customer's purchases and smiled as they went out his door. On seeing the little old lady, his smile slipped, but only for an instant. He brushed down the front of his apron and went over to greet her as she stood looking over the small pile of early spring apples. "_Guten morgen, gnädige Frau_. How are you today?"

She peered up at Max over a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles, her bright green eyes meeting his brown ones for a moment before she pushed the smoked lenses back into place. "_Ach, mein Herr_. It would be a nice day for a walk if not for my rheumatism. And it would be an even nicer day if you didn't charge so much for your apples! Two _pfennigs_ apiece? Why, that's unheard of!"

The grocer shrugged, his hands raising and falling helplessly. "What can I say? It is the war, _meine Dame_."

'_Ja_, I suppose that is how it is." Despite her complaint about the prices, the old lady put several of the apples onto the scale, mumbling to herself about their small size even as Max took them off the scale and put them into a paper sack. She made her way to the counter and handed the grocer a small scrap of paper that he handed back after a quick glance. Her sharp eyes darted toward the front door as Max put together the rest of her order, working from the list he'd just read. When he was finished with that, and was making a note on the running tab he kept for her account, she started putting her packages into her string bag. "So, _Herr_ Dietz, do you think you could use your telephone to call my granddaughter and let her know I'm ready to meet her for lunch?"

"What do you think I am running here? A public telephone service?" Max spluttered indignantly. He glared at the old lady just long enough to make his point, then picked up the ear piece and cranked the handle of the old-fashioned wall mounted phone. "Ja, Gestapo Headquarters, bitte," he said into the microphone. Nodding to himself as the connection was completed, he smiled as a young woman's voice came on the line. "_Fräulein _Lisel, this is Max. Your grandmother is here, saying as usual that I am cheating her! Do you think you can get free for lunch so she will go away and take her complaints with her?" The grocer paused to listen to the reply, and his smile grew wider on hearing it. "Wonderful! I'll tell her right away. _Danke, Fräulein, auf Wiedersehen_." A slight pause. "Oh yes, Heil Hitler!"

Max went back to his counter, placing both hands on it as he leaned forward to look the old lady in the eye. "There, you see,_ meine Dame_? Even though all you do is complain about my prices, I still make your phone calls. Your granddaughter will meet you for lunch in about fifteen minutes."

Smiling, the old lady reached over and patted one of the grocer's hands with her own mesh-gloved one. "Danke, _mein Herr_. You are such a nice boy, even if you do have such a bad temper." She gave Max's hand a final pat, then gathered up her bag and slowly left the shop.

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Colonel Robert Hogan, senior Prisoner of War at Stalag Luft 13 leaned against the wall of Barracks Two, enjoying the warmth of the noonday sun on the dark brown leather of his flying jacket. With his garrison cap pulled down to shade his eyes, the American officer at first appeared to be paying no attention to the lively conversation going on just a few feet away. The grin that broke out across his face gave the lie to that, however, and that grin was caused by the fact that two of the men had suddenly switched to French to continue their discussion.

Corporal Louis Le Beau gave Sergeant James Kinchloe a sidelong look, then burst out laughing at what the American had just said. The Frenchman wrung out the shirt he was holding, then dropped it into the basket of clean laundry before his hands came up to describe an hourglass shape in the air. The rapid stream of Le Beau's native language quickly went beyond Hogan's high school French classes, but the words that he was able to pick out plus the hand motion told him the two men were talking about one of the two most common topics of conversation in camp. And this time around, it certainly wasn't about the food.

Kinchloe grinned as he watched Le Beau's hands, then came right back at him in French that while it had an American accent, it was every bit as fluent as the native Parisian's own. The two went back and forth, the conversation becoming more intense until the laundry was forgotten and the discussion became rather involved.

When the men were standing toe-to-toe and going at each other non-stop, Hogan decided to step in. "All right, fellas," he said as he stepped over to where they were and picked up the basket of clean clothes. The Colonel turned and pushed the basket into Kinchloe's hands, grinning at the startled look that came across the black Sergeant's face even as he automatically grabbed hold of the handles. "Look, if you two are gonna talk about girls, can you at least do it in a language that the rest of us understand?" Hogan's voice and words, while clearly teasing the two men, had a slightly wistful quality about them that put an almost plaintive tone to the good-natured remark. "Meanwhile, Kinch, why don't you run those clothes over to the guys that are hangin' the stuff on the lines? That'll give you a chance to cool off after whatever it was you two were saying."

"Yeah, sure Colonel," Kinch grinned and shot a look at the Frenchman. "Hold that thought, Louis, 'cause I want to hear more about her when I get back." The Sergeant laughed as he tucked the clothes basket under his arm and headed across the compound.

Hogan watched Kinch leave, then turned to Le Beau, putting his hands on his hips and favoring the Corporal with a smile. "And as for you-"

Even though he was a foot shorter than the American, the Frenchman wasn't the least bit intimidated by the Colonel's stance. Le Beau threw his hands up in the air and nodded rapidly. "_Oui, mon Colonel. Je parlai l'anglaise. J'ai besoin de la pratique en tout cas_."

The Colonel ran that through the memories of his long-ago high school lessons and smiled after a moment. "That's right, you do need the practice with English." Hogan picked up a pair of buckets that stood nearby, then nodded to the ones still on the ground. "While Kinch is making his delivery, why don't you and I get some clean water for the next batch?" With that, Hogan headed for the water tower, leaving Le Beau to grab the other buckets and follow.

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The little old lady sat in the dining room at the _Hauserhoff_, with a pot of tea and two cups on her table while she waited for her lunch companion to arrive. Her net shopping bag and drawstring reticule lay on an empty chair by her side, but she kept her shawl drawn close around her shoulders as if chilled even on this fine spring day. Picking up her cup, she took a sip of tea as her eyes surveyed the room.

There had been a few other people already seated when she had entered the hotel's dining room, but they were all simply local citizens taking time out for an early lunch. None of them were of any interest to the _gnädige Frau, _but the _Fräulein_ that walked in a few minutes later certainly was. She nodded as the young, blonde haired woman came to the table and took a seat.

"_Guten abend, Großmutter_." Lisel Weiss smiled at the little old lady seated across from her. "Have you been well?" she asked as she set her purse on the same chair already occupied by the older woman's belongings.

"_Ja, ja_. I'm well enough, _Enkelin_," she replied, making a delicate motion with her hand as if brushing off her granddaughter's concerns about her health.

The two ladies made small talk over their luncheon, clearly enjoying themselves even though Lisel kept glancing toward the door. The blonde kept up her smile and pleasant conversation, but the elder woman could see that the smile did not cover the worried expression in the younger woman's eyes.

After taking a sip of tea to cover the concerned look that came across her face, the old lady turned to her granddaughter and repeated the question that the younger woman obviously hadn't heard. "Have you received a letter from your brother Heinrich lately, Lisel dear?"

The blonde started slightly, drawing her eyes from the restaurant's doorway and focussing on the old lady once more. "Oh, _ja,_ _Großmutter_. I have it right here." With that, Lisel picked up her purse, opened it and withdrew a thick envelope that she placed on the table between them. "He is so pleased to know that I give you his letters after I've read them. It can be very hard for him to find the time to write, after all, because he is so busy with the war and all. This way he can keep in touch with both of us at the same time."

The old lady smiled as she picked up the envelope, nodding absently as she tucked it carefully into her reticule. "_Ach, ja_. I remember how hard it was for my darling Rudolph to send me a letter when he was away fighting for the Kaiser in the last war." She sighed softly, and dabbed a tear from the corner of her green eye with her napkin before she went on. "I treasured every scrap he ever sent. I still have them, you know. All tied up nice and neatly with a lovely bit of ribbon he'd sent to me inside one of the envelopes."

Lisel smiled softly, and reached over to pat the old lady's hand gently. "And I would dearly love to read all of them some day, if you would let me. _Großvater_ Rudolph sounds like a wonderful man; I wish I could have known him."

"One day, _Enkelin_, perhaps I shall let you read them." The old lady moved her other hand to lay it on Lisel's before she went on. "I don't know, my dear," she paused as a coy smile crossed her face for the briefest moment. "There are the kinds of things in them that a young man says to his wife that may not be fit for such a young lady as yourself to read. But I shall think about it and let you know, since you've shown an interest."

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Kinch and Le Beau were back to both scrubbing clothes and talking about girls when Hans Schultz, Sergeant of the Guard at Stalag 13 came across the compound. Hogan had resumed his place, leaning against the barracks with one foot propped up on the wall. With the bill of his cap once again down over his eyes, and his mind on pleasant thoughts that involved a brunette, a bottle of wine, and being any place except the prison camp, the American officer didn't realize that Schultz was there until the German cleared his throat. "Ah, excuse me, Colonel Hogan, where is the Englander, Corporal Newkirk?"

Hogan reached up and shoved his cap back, letting it rest on his head at a decidedly non-regulation angle as he sighed. "You interrupted a very nice daydream to ask me that? Why do you want to know anyway, Schultz? Do you owe him from last night's poker game or something?"

"Nein, Colonel, I didn't get to play last night because I was on guard duty." Schultz lifted his hands in shrug, then went on. "The Kommandant wishes to see him."

Though neither Kinch nor Le Beau stopped what they were doing, they were listening to the conversation, and they too were curious as to why their fellow prisoner was being sought by Colonel Klink. Military protocol and the rules laid out in the Geneva Convention limited the amount of contact that the enlisted men had with the Kommandant. Any necessary business was conducted between the prisoners and their captors by the senior officer among the POWs and the commanding officer of the camp. It was unusual for Klink to be asking after a specific prisoner, and since that prisoner was Newkirk, it could only mean trouble.

Raising an eyebrow ever so slightly, Hogan gave Schultz a shrug in return. "I'm not sure where he is right now. Why does Klink want to see him anyway?" As usual, the American was lying through his teeth when he told the German that he didn't know where the Englishman was. Hogan knew exactly where Newkirk was; or rather, where he was supposed to be.

"The Kommandant has been invited to a party in town this weekend to celebrate the birthday of our beloved _Führer_. He ordered a new dress uniform from the tailor, but the fit is terrible and he is very upset that he won't be able to wear it for the party." Schultz shook his head and sighed. "_Ach_, you should have heard him going on about it, Colonel Hogan!"

"What's this got to do with Newkirk?" Hogan folded his arms over his chest and shook his head as well. "Just tell Klink to go back to the tailor and have it redone."

"Nein, nein, nein! I suggested that myself and the Kommandant got very angry about it. He had already called the tailor shop, and it turns out that they're already booked solid with other officers who are also getting their uniforms ready for the party."

Hogan's eyebrow went up a bit more. "You still haven't said what this has to do with Newkirk, Schultz."

"Well, you know how good the Englander is with a needle and thread. I have seen him working on some of the prisoner's clothing, and he has sewn on a few buttons for me from time to time, so I mentioned this to the Kommandant. Now he wishes to see Newkirk in his office right away."

"Honestly, Schultz, I really don't know where he is right now." Hogan turned to Kinch and Le Beau, his slight nod inviting them to chime in. "You fellas got any ideas on that?"

"Well, I don't know, Colonel." Kinch dropped the shirt he was washing back into the tub and picked up a towel. Stalling for time to think, the Sergeant carefully dried his hands before saying anything else. "I think he said something about working in the motorpool today, but I'm not sure."

The Frenchman gave the pair of long underwear he was wringing out a few extra twists as he appeared to give serious consideration to both Hogan's question and Kinch's response. "You might be correct, _mon ami_. I remember him saying something about the motorpool, but you know how Newkirk is." Le Beau shrugged and looked back to Hogan.

"There you go, Schultz." Hogan gave the German an easy grin and patted him on a broad shoulder, using the contact to turn Schultz and give him a slight push in the direction of the motorpool. "Why don't you try going over there and finding out. If he's not there, come back and see me about it, ok?"

As soon as Schultz got out of earshot, Hogan motioned for Kinch and Le Beau to come closer. "Great job there, guys." He took a look at his watch and frowned. "We've still got at least half an hour before Newkirk's due back, so we're gonna have to stall for a while. Kinch, get over to the motorpool and tell the guys there to tell Schultz that they think Newkirk might be over at the camp bakery. Le Beau, I want you to go to the bakery and tell them to send Schultz over to where that work detail is fixing the roof on Barracks 52. Along the way, I want you to spread the word for Flight Sergeant Sheffield and his gang to report to me here as soon as possible."


	2. Complications

Usual disclaimers apply: I don't own 'Hogan's Heroes' and am only borrowing them for fun, not profit.

* * *

The business of the restaurant had gone on as the two women enjoyed their meal and each other's company. Some customers had left, and more had arrived to replace them. One of those new diners was a young Gestapo _Leutnant_ who had chosen the table next to the chatting women. As the older one made her comment about her granddaughter's interest, he put his menu aside and favored both ladies with a smile. "I could only wish that _Fräulein_ Weiss would show as much interest in me as she does in her dining companion, as I am quite interested in getting to know her better."

Liesel's eyes widened as she realized who had spoken, but other than that, and the brief clenching of her hand where it was still covered by her grandmother's, the young woman gave no outward sign of distress as she smiled back at the blond officer. "Oh! I didn't see you there, _Leutant _Schaeffer."

Schaeffer chuckled at the young woman's surprise even as he put a hand over his heart and exclaimed, "You have inflicted a fatal wound on me, _Fräulein._ I had thought that I was surely more noticeable than this!"

The old lady gave her granddaughter a look, her green eyes briefly narrowing behind her spectacles. However, the expression she turned on the Gestapo officer was one of wide-eyed curiosity. "Liesel, who is this fine young officer of our beloved Third Reich?"

Liesel's hand curled into a fist once again, but as her grandmother's hand was still lying on it, the Gestapo officer couldn't see the gesture. Putting all of the cheerfulness she could muster into her voice, she smiled as she made the introductions. "_Herr_ Schaeffer, this is my grandmother, _Frau_ Richter. _Großmutter,_ may I present _Leutant_ Franz Schaeffer of the Hammelburg office of the _Geheime Staatspolizie._"

Schaeffer rose from his seat as the introductions were made. He held his hand out to the old lady, who gave him a most charming smile as she placed her hand in his. The _Leutant_ bowed politely, favoring theold lady with his best, most charming smile in return. "A pleasure to meet you, _Frau_ Richter. I do not mean to intrude on your luncheon, but I so seldom have the opportunity to speak with _Fräulein_ Weiss outside of work that I had to seize my chance when it arose."

The old lady tittered softly and gave the Gestapo officer a coy smile in return. "Why, _Herr_ Schaeffer, as one of the Fatherland's finest soldiers, you should know that battles are won by taking the initiative." She gently pulled her hand away, and folded both of them primly on the tabletop before she went on. "However, I must ask you to forgive me, in that I shall have to take my granddaughter away for now. I have not felt well for a few days, and Liesel has been kind enough to offer to let me rest at her apartment before I start for home."

Liesel blinked, then nodded quickly as she stood up. "Yes, _Großmutter_, and we really should be going if you're to get any rest before your trip home." She glanced at Schaeffer as she picked up her purse and her grandmother's shopping bag. "If you'll excuse us, _Leutant_?"

Schaeffer could only nod as he helped the old lady with her chair. Once she was on her feet, he favored both women with a bow. "It would seem that you have won the day, _Frau_ Richter, but rest assured, I shall take your advice in the future." He turned to Liesel. "May I offer you the use of my staff car to take your grandmother to your apartment?"

The young woman began to turn down the offer, but the old lady reached over and patted her arm gently. "Perhaps we should take the _Leutant_ up on his gallant offer, especially as I have denied him the pleasure of your company for the afternoon." She picked up her reticule and nodded to Schaeffer. "Thank you so very much, _mein Herr_, for your kindness to an old woman."

A short time later, Liesel closed the door of her apartment and set the locks. She sagged against the door in relief, and watched silently as the old lady put her hat and reticule on the sitting room table. "I was so scared when Schaeffer walked in that I didn't know what to do. I don't think he suspects anything, but he's been watching me a lot lately. I'm so grateful to you for getting me away from him just now that I could kiss you."

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Hogan looked up as the barracks door opened and Andrew Carter scurried inside. The Colonel nodded in greeting as he poured himself a cup of the bitter brew that passed itself off as coffee, wincing at the taste as he took a sip. "This is bad, even for roasted acorn flour. What'd somebody do, burn this batch of acorns or something?"

Carter shrugged as he got himself a cup of water at the sink. "I don't know, Colonel. I just know that we're out of the real thing until the next batch of Red Cross packages comes in, whenever that is."

"Thank you, Mary Sunshine." Hogan smiled at the Sergeant as the young man took a seat at the table. Another sip, and another wince. "It's almost bad enough to make me start drinking tea instead."

"Don't let Newkirk hear you say that, sir. You know he'd never let you hear the end of it if he did." Carter propped his elbows on the table and took a drink from his tin cup. Hogan disliked tea as much as Newkirk liked it, which was saying something, and it was a constant source of amusement for the rest of the men in the barracks when the Colonel and the Corporal got into one of their 'discussions' on the merits of the English national drink. "Speaking of Newkirk, has he come back from town yet?"

After a glance at his watch, Hogan shook his head. "No, and he's getting close to being late." He started to say more, but stopped when the door opened once again, and a young Englishman with Sergeant's laces on his sleeve walked in.

"I got word that you wanted to see me, Colonel?" Theodore Sheffield, a former Hurricane pilot with several air victories to his credit, came to attention as he spoke to the camp's senior prisoner of war officer. Hogan never insisted on the usual formalities of rank, but Sheffield was a career man and such things had been drilled into him for nearly a decade.

"Yeah, we've got a situation developing, and I'm counting on you and your squad to help out." Hogan nodded to the Flight Sergeant, and went on as Sheffield relaxed into an 'at ease' posture. "Klink wanted to see Newkirk in his office about ten minutes ago, but there's just one small problem; he's not back from town yet. Well, that, and he's almost overdue."

"So you want us to play dodge 'em with Jerry until Newkirk returns." Sheffield nodded thoughtfully. "Right, what's the plan then, sir?"

Hogan grinned as he set his cup on the table. "That's why I like you, Sheffield; direct and to the point. Ok, right now it's just Schultz that's looking for Newkirk, and I've already got him going to the motorpool, the bakery and all the way over to Barracks 52. That should give you and your gang of used-car salesmen time to set up a whole flock of wild geese for Schultz to chase." The Colonel paused, and glanced at his watch again. "Hopefully, that'll give your wayward countryman time to get back here."

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The young woman quickly crossed the room and flung her arms around her companion, and gave a long kiss that was welcomed by the recipient. Once they came up for air, Liesel laughed softly. "You know, I've never kissed an old lady like this before, but I think I like it. And I want to do it again, only this time, without the wig."

A distinctly male voice responded, the quavering falsetto of the old lady's voice replaced by the Cockney tones of a born Englishman. "Well, love, I believe that can be arranged." Newkirk swept the grey wig off his head, dropping it to join the hat and reticule before he ran his hand through his dark brown hair. "Better now, I think, though it'll be a bit hard to compete with myself after that first one, but I'm willing to give it a go."

Liesel reached up and gently removed the glasses, carefully laying them on the table as well. "That's better," she said softly. "I love your eyes, and I don't want anything in the way when I look at them."

"So it's just me eyes you love then, is it?" Newkirk set his hands on his hips as he spoke, the grin that threatened to break across his face spoiling the skeptical tone of his words. "And here I thought I meant more to you than just a pair of eyes by now."

The young woman laughed and wrapped both hands in the shawl that was still draped around the Englishman's shoulders, using it to pull him close. "Don't be silly, Peter. I love you, not just your eyes."

Newkirk smiled and kissed her gently. "I know, _liebschen_." He cupped his hands around her face, his deep green eyes meeting Liesel's light blue ones. The Englishman paused, not quite believing what he was about to say, but it had to be said before he allowed himself to become distracted any further. "Now, as much as I like the way this conversation is going, perhaps we'd best take a moment to talk about _Leutant_ Schaeffer."


	3. Distractions And Decisions

Usual disclaimers apply: I don't own 'Hogan's Heroes' and am only borrowing them for fun, not for profit.

* * *

Schultz was panting as he walked up to Barracks 52. Even though it was a nice spring day, his wool uniform and overcoat along with the guard's extra weight combined to make the Sergeant sweat a bit as he made his way across the camp in search of the Englander Newkirk. He took off his helmet and pulled a large red kerchief from his pocket to wipe his face while he looked at the group of men working on the roof of the hut.

The sight of a pair of dark trousers and a pale blue sweater made Schultz smile in relief until he realized that the man wearing them had blond hair instead of Newkirk's dark brown. When this Englander started down the ladder, the guard called out to him anyway. "You there, Sheffield. Come over here, _bitte_."

Flight Sergeant Sheffield hopped off the ladder and walked over, giving the German a nod in greeting. "You wanted to see me, Sergeant?"

Schultz nodded, and stuffed his kerchief back into his pocket before responding. "_Ja_, I am looking for another of you Englanders." The guard eyed his helmet, and put it back on with a sigh. "Have you seen Corporal Newkirk recently?"

"Hm, let me see," Sheffield replied as went over to a bench near the wall of the barracks where the men working on the roof had piled their uniform jackets. He dug through the pile and pulled out his own, but as he did so, his side cap slid free of its place under a shoulder strap and fell to the ground. "He was here for a while, Sergeant," the Englishman said as he bent down to pick up the cap, "but he doesn't seem to be around now, does he?"

Schultz threw up his hands and sighed. "Do you have any idea where he might be? It is most important that I find him as quickly as possible."

After returning the cap to its place, Sheffield took the time to get his cigarettes and a book of matches from the pocket of the jacket before he answered. "I don't, but some of these other chaps might." The Flight Sergeant put the jacket back onto the bench and carefully pulled a cigarette from the pack and lit it. A few puffs later, Sheffield turned to look up at the men still on the roof. "Do any of you lot know where Corporal Newkirk might be?"

The German Sergeant was nearly wringing his hands by the time the question slowly made its way through the group of prisoners working on the roof. The answer seemed to take even longer to come back as each man, in turn, denied any knowledge of Newkirk's whereabouts. Schultz was ready to pull his hair out in frustration when the last man, an American private, suddenly nodded. "Oh yeah, I think he said something about it being his turn to tend goal today, whatever that means."

Sheffield flicked the ash from his Gold Flake and nodded. "Quite right, Palmer. I forgot that there's a football game on today over by the delousing station." The Englishman gave the German a smile. "Why, I'd wager that they're just getting started, and if you hurry, you can catch Newkirk before things become too involved."

"_Donnerwetter_!" Schultz turned on his heel and started to walk off, but he only got a few steps before he spun back around and came back to Sheffield. "I almost forgot to say thank you, Sergeant." With that, the German once again turned and moved away.

Once Schultz was out of sight, Sheffield looked back up to the men on the roof. "Well done, lads, and thanks for your assistance." The Flight Sergeant glanced at his watch and saw that it had been nearly forty-five minutes since he'd spoken with Colonel Hogan. "I'd best get cracking then, and make certain that the next few decoys are in place."

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"So what you're saying, Liesel, is that this Leftenant Schaeffer has his eye on you, right. But you don't think he's gotten wise to the fact that you're an Underground agent?" Newkirk smiled and leaned back, putting an arm around the young woman's shoulder as she sat next to him on the couch. "Can't very well say I blame him for looking, given how attractive you are, _liebschen_. Of course, I'd like him to mind his own ruddy buisness and go chase one of the barmaids at the _Hofbrau_ instead."

The blonde curled up next to the dark-haired Englishman and rested her head on his shoulder with a sigh. "_Ja,_ so do I, Peter. I had to hide those copies of the railroad timetables," she gestured toward the thick envelope that protruded from the top of the reticule, "in the Personnel files for two days because _Herr_ Schaeffer almost caught me with them."

"That's it then. We're getting you out of there before he does catch you with the goods." Newkirk shook his head and placed a finger across her lips before Liesel had a chance to voice a protest. "You've done an excellent job of getting a lot of information out of Gestapo headquarters, love, but none of it is worth the risk of you being captured."

The German woman reached up, wrapping her hand around the Englishman's to draw it away from her face. She laced her fingers with his, and gently kissed the back of his hand before she spoke. "I don't want to go, Peter. My work is here, and so are you. If I stay, I can continue to help the Underground and we can still be together, but if I go..." Liesel's voice trailed off, as she did not want to even think of being seperated from Newkirk, nor did she want to say it for fear of making it happen.

"'S'trewth, love. I don't want to see you go either, but if it's the only way to keep you safe, then that's how it has to be." Newkirk gripped Liesel's hand tightly for a moment, then made himself sit up and move away from her a bit. "And I've got a feeling that the sooner we act on this, the better, before Schaeffer does get suspicious." He couldn't think straight sitting next to her, as all he wanted to do was to put his arms around Liesel and tell her everything was going to be all right. Newkirk knew he needed a clear head to be able to come up with a plan, so he pushed himself off the couch, and absently started pacing across the small sitting room.

A few minutes, and a few trips back and forth later, the Englishman stopped in his tracks and snapped his fingers as an idea came to him. "Let's work with what we have already in place. You're off from work now because you had to take care of your poor, sick grandmother, right? What if we take that a step further and say that you need to leave for a couple of weeks in order to go home with her and nurse her back to health?" Newkirk smiled, slowly working the plan out as he went on. "That gives you an excuse to scarper and means that no one here will be expecting to see you for a while, which gives us time to come up with a reason why you'll not be returning to Hammelburg."

Liesel nodded slowly as she thought it over. "That could work, Peter. I'll telephone _Herr_ Dietz at the grocery and ask him to make arrangements for me to get to Leipzig. My grandfather has a small farm just outside of town, and I can stay with him as long as I need to. Once that's done, I can let Headquarters know I need the time off from the office, which shouldn't be a problem." She stood and went to the telephone, pausing before she picked up the handset. "After that, I pack a few bags and wait for the car to pick us up."

Newkirk smiled as he listened to her finish outlining the plan he'd started. "Only one small problem that I can think of right off the top of me head. If Schaeffer and his lot start looking for you, won't they start in Leipzig if they know that's where you're from?"

The blonde shook her head and grinned impishly. "_Nein, liebschen_. I may be from Leipzig, but my identity card says I'm from Berlin. Should _Herr_ Schaeffer want to find me, I'm afraid he's going to be looking in the wrong part of the country."

"That's why I love you, Liesel. You're not only beautiful, you're brilliant!" Newkirk's smile widened, and it was all he could do to keep from laughing out loud at the thought of the local Gestapo officers chasing all over Berlin in search of their wayward secretary. "You make your calls then, and let's get your things together so we're ready on our end when it's time to move."

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Colonel Hogan had stopped pacing the common room of the barracks an hour ago. Now he sat staring into his untouched cup of ersatz coffee that had long since gone cold. _Damn it, Newkirk! Where are you? _Hogan's hands clenched the cup tightly for a moment, causing some of the dark brew to slop over the rim and onto the scarred wood of the tabletop. "Oh for the love of... Le Beau, pass me a towel, will ya?"

The Frenchman looked up from peeling a potato, and tossed a scrap of toweling over to the American. "Take it easy, _mon Colonel_. I am certain he has a good excuse for being so late." While he tried to keep his voice calm, Le Beau was also concerned about the absent Englishman. _You were due back over two hours ago, Pierre. What has kept you so late** this** time, mon ami?_

"He'd better, or he's gonna be grounded until the end of the war and then some." Reaching for the towel caused the Colonel's shirt sleeve to ride up his arm a bit, giving him a good look at his wristwatch._ Two hours and counting. I'm surprised that Schultz hasn't been back yet;  
Sheffield's gang must have him on a real wild goose chase._ Hogan shook his head and mopped up the spilled coffee. _At least **one **Englishman around here understands how to obey orders!_

The bunk that covered the tunnel entrance clattered up, making room for Kinch to climb into the common room. The black Sergeant caught the tension in the French Corporal's eyes, and the closed, nearly expressionless look on the Colonel's face._ Le Beau's an open book as far as his feelings go; and our commanding officer isn't nearly as hard to read as he'd like to think that he is. We're all worried about Newkirk, but Colonel Hogan's got to act like he isn't because he's in charge._ I just wish I had some good news to give him. "Sorry, sir," Kinch shook his head and tripped the latch that let the bunk close over the opening in the floor. "The radio's quiet, and there haven't been any odd telephone calls either. Carter's minding the store for me for a few minutes, so we're still covered in case Newkirk actually does call in."

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"...and then I got mixed up in the middle of a football game,_ ach du lieber_, Sergeant. I tell you, I have nver seen the like of so many men jumping and running around all at the same time like that. I thought I was going to be trampled!"

Joe Wilson, the closest thing to a doctor to be found in Stalag Luft 13 sat on the edge of his exam table and listened to his latest patient go on and on about his day. Schultz had stumbled into the infirmiary about a half hour ago, half carried in by Sergeant Olsen after a run-in with the highly enthusiastic spectators at a soccer game. Olsen had settled the German in a chair with the comment that the guard needed to sit down and have a long rest before the American had quickly vanished through the door.

_To quote Sherlock Holmes, 'the game is afoot' today for sure. Olsen gave me the signal that there's something going on, and the way he stressed the words 'long rest' means that I'm supposed to keep Schultz here for a while. _Wilson reached over, picked up the portly guard's water glass, and nodded thoughtfully. "Sounds like you've had a pretty tough time of it today, Schultzie. I think you'd better stay here a while and get your breath back before you go out again." The medic went to the sink and refilled the glass, then took a small tin box off his supply shelf. "In fact, you need to drink a few more glasses of water and take one of these." .

"_Was ist los_?" Schultz asked as he eyed the small white pill Wilson had just handed to him along with the water glass. "You wouldn't be trying any monkey business, would you?"

"Come on, Sergeant, it's nothing more than a salt tablet." Wilson showed Schultz a tin box that was clearly marked 'Salt Tablets'. He opened it, and swallowed one of the small white pills it contained before putting the tin back on the shelf next to a dozen others just like it. "See?Just plain old salt. You've been sweating a lot this morning, and you look like you need it."

The German nodded, and washed the pill down with a long swallow of water. "Ah, _danke_, Wilson. You are a good man, even if you are one of the enemy." He set the glass down, and within a couple of minutes, he was snoring gently.

Wilson watched his patient for a few more minutes to be certain the sleeping drug had taken effect, then picked up the glass. He took it to the sink and carefully rinsed it out before refilling it and setting it on the table next to the sleeping guard. _Sorry, Schultzie, but that really was a salt tablet. I just didn't bother to mention what I'd put in the water that last time I topped off the glass._ The medic grinned, and stepped out of the infirmiary to give Olsen the good news.


	4. Proposals And Resolutions

Usual disclaimers apply: I don't own 'Hogan's Heroes' and am only borrowing them for fun, not profit.

* * *

Two people sat at the small vanity in Liesel's bedroom, both of them repairing their faces. The young blonde watched as she always did, fascinated by Newkirk's transformation from a handsome, dark haired young man into a grey haired old woman. That process took far longer than her own light touch of lipstick; there was a war on, after all, and the average German civilian simply couldn't afford the prices charged for the few cosmetics that were available.

When the Englishman laid the makeup brush aside and picked up his wig, Liesel left the vanity and went to her closet, moving aside a couple of boxes to pull out a small jewelry case. "This is the last thing I want to take with me, Peter." She held up the leather-bound item for him to see. "I'm going to go and put it in my suitcase while you finish up."

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"Wilson figures that Schultz is out for at least an hour, unless we need him before that." Olsen grinned as he finished his report. "I think we've gotta work on Schultzie a bit though, Colonel. He was gettin' a little suspicious there at the end; in fact he even asked Joe outright about the salt tablet." The Sergeant shook his head and finished off the water in the tin cup that Le Beau had given him when he'd entered the barracks.

Hogan nodded and rubbed his eyes tiredly. _Great, something else to worry about today. Newkirk's way overdue; and now Schultz is asking questions of Wilson of all people._ The medic was an important part of the operation, as not only did some of the escaping prisoners that passed through the tunnels need medical attention, so did some of Hogan's own men on occasion. The Colonel ignored the fact that _he_ was often in need of Wilson's ministrations himself as he considered the implications of what Olsen had just said. _I try to keep him out of things as much as possible, so that everyone from Klink on down sees Wilson as basically harmless. Well, done is done, and that was a good move on Olsen's part to take Schultz to the infirmary after the scuffle at the soccer game, and a good catch on Wilson's part to send our favorite Kraut to dreamland for a while._

"Ok, we've got some breathing room, at least until Klink goes on the warpath. Thanks, Olsen. That was some quick thinking on your end." Hogan paused, then suddenly grinned. "Just remind me to never let Wilson play bartender."

The laughter that followed Hogan's wry comment didn't last long, as each man's thoughts turned to the problem at hand. _Where in the hell was Newkirk?_

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The Englishman took a cautious peek through the bedroom curtains, nodding in satisfaction as the street in front of Liesel's apartment seemed clear. A final look around the room assured him that everything was fine there as well; the bed was neatly made, and he knew that the clothing left in the closet and bureau was arranged so that a later search would be unable to reveal exactly how much the young woman had taken with her.

Liesel was just coming out of the kitchen when Newkirk entered the sitting room. "All is in order?" the two asked simultaneously, causing them to break out in quiet laughter. The German national slogan had become something of a private joke between them when Liesel had asked Newkirk in those very words if he had his costume in place before leaving her apartment after his first visit.

"We sound like an old married couple, don't we love?" The Englishman took the German woman's hands and drew her down onto the sofa with him. He kept his hands clasped around hers and looked into her pale blue eyes while he searched for the words he wanted to say.

Caught by Newkirk's sudden change in demeanor, Liesel sat quietly while a thoughtful look came over her Englander's face. His next words, however, brought an unexpected, but welcome joy to her heart.

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"Colonel, why not let me fix the Kommandant's uniform?" Le Beau looked over at his commanding officer from where he stood next to the stove in the common room. "Newkirk has been teaching me about alterations, and I already know how to do straight seamwork."

Kinch looked up from the worn Hopalong Cassidy novel that he was trying to distract himself with while on break from the radio room. "Hey, that's not a bad idea." He nodded appreciatively in the Frenchman's direction. "We could say that Newkirk hurt his hand and can't do any sewing; that way, Klink'll have to go along with it."

Hogan started to take a sip from his cup, but remembered just in time that it had long since gone cold, and set it down with a sigh. "If push comes to shove, we just might have to try that. But you fellas know how Klink is; if he's got it in mind that only Newkirk can do the work, then he won't accept anyone else."

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"There's something I've wanted to say to you for a long time, Liesel, and if I don't say it now, I may never get the chance again." Newkirk took a deep breath, and quietly asked, "Will you marry me?"

The young woman's eyes never left her Englander's green ones as he spoke, and when he asked the question she had so longed to hear, all she could do at first was nod in reply as tears gathered, threatening to spill down her cheeks. Finally, she found her voice, whispering "_Ja_. I will."

"We'll have to wait until the end of the war," Newkirk said, untangling one of his hands to reach over and gently wipe away the tears as they flowed freely from Liesel's eyes at the thought of having to wait before they could be married. "Here now, love, it won't go on forever, you know." He leaned forward and took her in a tight embrace, kissing her as if it was for the last time. In his heart, he knew it would be, as once they left the apartment, they had to go back to their respective roles until they parted. Reluctant to let go, but knowing they only had a matter of minutes before the car arrived to take Liesel from town, Newkirk finally let go and sat back.

The Englishman unpinned a small silver watch from the blouse he was wearing, and placed it in Liesel's hand, wrapping her fingers tightly around it. "I haven't got a ring to give you, but take this as my token until I can put a ring on your finger," he said quietly.

Liesel's face broke into a smile as she pulled a ring from her other hand. "Ah, but I have one for you." She tried to put the band on Newkirk's ring finger, and laughed softly when it wouldn't fit. He chuckled and guided her to place it on his little finger instead, where it fit as if it had been made for him. The Englishman turned his hand up to study the flat onyx stone set on the wide gold band. Liesel ran her fingertips over the stone and answered the question in his eyes. "It belonged to my grandfather, Peter. Now I want you to have it." Newkirk nodded silently and took her in his arms once again, and neither of them moved until it was time to go.

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Carter was taking his turn at monitoring the radio, hoping that Newkirk would call in at some point and let everyone know what was going on. His eyes traveled over the dials, resting on the still pointers that would jump to life only if there were any traffic on the airwaves. From there, he looked at the telephone switchboard that was wired into the camp's phone lines, but it too remained silent and still.

Sighing, the young Sergeant turned his attention back to the Jacob's Ladder he was weaving between his fingers to help pass the time. The complexities of the children's game of cat's cradle were an endless source of fascination for Carter, and he could spend hours with the simple loop of string that was the only thing needed to play. He was starting to think he'd actually been at it for hours when he heard footsteps coming down the route to the 'emergency' tunnel toward the central hub of the complex warren that ran below the prison camp.

Hastily untangling his fingers from the string, Carter reached up and slapped the lever that activated a signal in the barracks above his head before he took off down the tunnel toward the sounds he was hearing. He rounded a bend and skidded to a halt when he saw a 'little old lady' standing next to the makeup table taking off 'her' hat and wig. "Newkirk!" Relief at seeing the Englishman safely back mixed in his voice with the anxiety of the long wait and all the problems above ground. "Do you know what _time_ it is? You should have been back _hours_ ago!"

Newkirk grinned at the American as he ran his hand through his flattened hair. "Easy there, Andrew. I'm back now, aren't I?" He dropped the costume parts on the table along with the reticule and shopping bag as he sat down to remove his shoes. "What's got you so worked up then?"

Carter didn't get a chance to answer as Kinch's deep voice cut in. "What kept you? And it better _not_ have been because you were off chasin' some _fraulein_ as usual!"

"It probably was, knowing Pierre." Le Beau chimed in right behind the Sergeant's words.

This time, it was Newkirk that didn't get the chance to answer as Hogan stepped around the men to fix a long, level look on the Englishman. "You'd better have a good explanation for being so late, Corporal, but right now, we don't have time to hear it." The Colonel's tone promised that there _would_ be time later, and that the explanation had better be a good one. "Get changed and get upstairs as fast as you can. You and your sewing basket were wanted in the _Kommandant's_ quarters some time ago."

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A steady snowfall made it nearly impossible to see as two black-clad men made their way through the forest. Hogan tried to cheer himself up with the thought that while the lousy weather held Germany in its frozen grip on this freezing February night, he hoped that the conditions would keep the Fatherland's soldiers inside with their schnapps glasses in hand.

Following in the Colonel's wake, Newkirk, though he silently cursed the cold and snow, was actually glad to be out even on such a night. They were due to meet Danzig, and were expecting to be given the schedule for the next railroad shipment of munitions to the Russian front.

Danzig crouched behind a fallen tree, carefully watching and listening for any signs of movement in the darkness. The Underground leader frowned as he thought of the message he was carrying, and wished he didn't have to deliver it. When the signal flashed from the far side of the clearing, he returned it and cautiously made his way through the trees to meet his contacts. After a quick handshake, Danzig gave Hogan an envelope containing the timetable, and waited until the American had put it safely away before he said anything. "Colonel, I need to talk to you in private for a moment."

At Hogan's nod, Newkirk shrugged and moved away from the two men until he was out of earshot, though not out of visual range. Privacy was one thing, but carelessness was something none of them could afford. Once the Englishman was far enough off, Danzig stepped closer to Hogan and spoke softly into the American's ear. "I have some very bad news for Newkirk, but I wanted to tell you first so you could be ready to help him deal with it. I received a message from Leipzig yesterday." The German paused and shook his head before he continued. "_Fräulein_ Liesel died a few weeks ago."

Danzig went silent for a moment, giving Hogan time to absorb the news. "Unfortunately, I don't have many details, but it seems to have been a sudden illness, as the last word from her in November indicated that all was well."

Hogan stared at Danzig, stunned by what the German had said. He reached out and put a hand on the other man's shoulder, though he wasn't sure if he was offering comfort or seeking it for himself. "Dear God," he said quietly. "This is..." The American's voice trailed off as he visibly pulled himself together. "Do you want me to tell Newkirk for you?", he asked, offering to relieve Danzig of his burden.

The German shook his head. "_Nein, meine Freund_. I have carried messages between the two of them all year long." Danzig reached up and put his hand over the American's for a moment before stepping away. "_Vielen Dank_, Colonel Hogan. It is my task to carry this last one as well; it will be your task to help Peter afterwards."


End file.
